Ad Fines Terrae
by Eva Haley
Summary: A story chronicling Mary and Anne's lives, spanning from the time Edward visits the Observatory, and beyond the end of Black Flag. Bounces between AC4's storyline and borrows from the many myths in history surrounding Anne Bonny and Mary Read.
1. With A Drunken Sailor

_**1\. With A Drunken Sailor**_

 _"The life that I have chosen,_

 _And there will be content,_

 _And the salt sea shall be frozen,_

 _Before that I repent."_

\- Lowlands Of Holland, traditional.

The resin echoed from the bow string as it danced across the fiddle. Raw and warm, a slow and wistful tune followed in it's footsteps through the close evening air, the salty tang of the sea and the vague smell of sweat serving as the sheet of paper the harmonies danced across.

The Old Avery was a bustle of tales being told, the clinking of bottles and the occasional spirited jeer. Beyond the huts, the sea gently rolled to and fro upon the sands, eroding away the beach with no care for the conversation of mortals.

James Kidd, bastard son of a bastard pirate, perched on a stool, hunched over with his arms hung over his knees. In one hand, he slung a bottle loosely, rolling it around some before taking a decisive swig.

His hazel eyes never left the sunset, a burgeoning red, gradually slipping below the horizon; all the while he slipped gently into a comfortably looser state. Just enough to keep his thoughts from whirring like a windmill in a tropical storm, but always stopping before he became the storm. He had been blazing drunk a scant few nights in his youth - enough to convince him that clarity was a treasure.

A soft voice spoke from behind him, the lilt in dulcet tones that he would have known anywhere.

"Evening, Jim," the redheaded woman who tended the tables from time to time picked up the empty bottle on the barrel in front of him with a tired smile. "Will it be another?"

"Not right now, Anne, thankyou." He looked up at the woman unlucky enough to have been taken by Calico Jack's daft charms, or perhaps, lack of. She was a wiry Irish woman with the heart of a lion and a wit sharp enough to strike a man's overbearing flirtations down to the size of a pea, a necessity when dealing with the punters that rolled in from the docks.

James held a great fondness for Anne ever since she had begun working at the bar a year ago. They would often be the only two sober enough to hold a conversation in the small hours. He'd often lend a hand in clearing up around the passed out drunken sailors sprawled across tables, occasionally manhandling patrons out - though admittedly, Anne did most of the manhandling. For the sake of good conversation in a place otherwise desolate of talk outside of greed for gold and want of women, James didn't mind at all.

They would often talk about their lives growing up in both England and Ireland, and James had listened most sympathetically when Anne, in one of her rare vulnerable moments, confessed her sorrow over the state of her marriage to a failed man who was drifting away like flotsam. That was also the only time James had seen Anne three sheets to the wind and had carried her home, away from the lust of undesirables who had watched her like vultures, waiting for the carrion to finally drop.

Now, James simply watched his wise and warm-hearted friend for a moment as she picked up a few empty bottles from the surrounding tables and placed them in the bucket that hung loosely on her forearm.

Anne looked up after a moment, tucking a loose strand of her vibrant red hair behind her ear as she watched James back.

"You're always here, nursing your bottle. Who nurses your heart, Jim?"

James shrugged, giving her a wry smile. "Sadly, I am beholden to none."

"Don't you ever want to meet a fine lass? Someone to come home to?" Anne tilted her head to the side as she watched James mull the question over, his body language suggested he squirmed under the question before collecting himself to deflect the question.

"I 'spose it depends how you define home." James ruminated, thinking she hadn't noticed the subtle change. "It's not England anymore. But the sea..." He trailed off raising his hand to the shore.

"She's a harsh mistress," Anne followed his gaze, watching the water ablaze in red as the sun headed down.

"Aye, she certainly keeps me in line." They remained in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the sun light a red path from the shore to the horizon.

"This new ship... you could take charge, y'know." James suggested, observing the _Matthias_ as it sat in the docks. It was a fair ship, a little small but well-armed and delightfully pirated.

Anne's now estranged husband had discovered her affair with Calico Jack several moons ago now. Honorably, Jack had tried to pay James Bonny off to agree to annul the marriage, however James had firmly turned this down, hounding Anne and informing Woodes-Rogers of her association with pirates in attempt to get her publicly whipped for her disobedience.

The request ignored, one of Jack's finer (and only) victories had been stealing one of James Bonny's own ships from Kingston a few months ago in response.

In a swift attack, Jack had led a small party of jaded drunken sailors on to the _Matthias_ one afternoon, finding James in the cabin and making short work of the man who sought to make Anne's life a misery. Jack, in one of his thoughtful yet misguided moments, gifted the flintlock that ended James Bonny in a shower of bone and brain matter to Anne as a wedding gift. She was still none the wiser that James was dead, left in the bay of Kingston as scraps for the seadogs, and Jack rather liked it that way, thank you very much.

Anne chuckled brushing the notion aside as she looked at the ship as it bobbed gently in the tide. "Hardly, what would Jack say to that?"

And yet, James saw her pause for a moment, to quietly admire the unweathered paint of the newly crafted ship. Her brow had furrowed before she began walking towards the bar to return the bottles and it was these nuances that convinced him.

James, now fully on to a potent idea, rose to his feet and followed to continue their talk. He strode past the tables of patrons, lost in conversation, satisfied that they would pay no mind to what he was about to say.

He leant casually on the bar beside Anne as she offloaded the empty bottles to another barkeep.

"There we go, Micah. If you can take these out to the warehouse, I'd be grateful," Anne said, handing the bucket to the bright eyed strapping boy, who nodded and did as he was told, the bottles clinking noisily as he set off with several buckets.

Anne, seeing no customers at the bar, exhaled tiredly and rested against it as the brighter stars that the sky offered began to shimmer through the fading blue.

"The way I see it, Anne," James began, speaking in a slightly lower voice. "That ship's _yours_. Seeing as James, under _British_ law, is still your husband and he isn't supporting you... well... frankly, I'd see that as fair dividends."

Anne smiled sadly and reflected James' - the _better_ James - hushed tone. "Appropriation's a lovely way of looking a it, but Jack captured it... I suppose it's more his for that."

"Be that as it may, when you set sail," James said, gesturing his thumb to where Jack was drinking with some other unfortunates who looked bored by the tale he was spinning. "A few months out at sea... what happens when him and the crew are too pissed to bloody steer?"

Anne spoke hesitantly, brow creased, as she leant to face him fully. His face certainly held no hint of jest. "I don't know, Jim. I haven't the faintest idea how to pilot a ship. That ain't work a woman does."

"Tosh!" James suddenly put his bottle down on the bar and spoke with a soft but fiery defiance. "I've seen a score of ladies who can reef a sail and spin a capstan."

Anne looked up and found James' eyes, filled with possibility and realised he wasn't joking or merely acting out strange grandiose ideas. He was being absolutely serious about the concept. She looked James' up and down and now wondered if she could be that.

"And... would you teach me to fight? With a cutlass, like?" Anne began to entertain the notion. "And maybe handle a pistol?"

"All that and more," James' eyes lit up, a fire behind them, usually brought on in men by whisky or women - but this was a fire that burned solely for the ocean. "But you have to want it. And work for it. There's no stumbling into true success."

There was a commotion at the table opposite, the dull clang of a tankard slamming on wood. "Oy! Lad! That's my lass you're making love to! You lay off or I'll cut ya!"

"Up your arse, Rackham," James waved him off. "Lad is the last thing you should be calling me."

"Oh! Oh, is that right, is it? LAD!" Jack was on his feet, the stool he was sat on clattered to the floor behind him, his companions stepping away from the table warily.

James in truth was nearing thirty years of age and tired of his fellow sailors making a point to call him "lad". In a group context, he supposed that he _was_ indeed a lad but the persistent singling out by Rackham had lost it's novelty long ago - that ship had truly sailed.

Anne looked from Jack, who swayed where he stood, hands on his hips - usually a sign of one of his foul moods - to James who appeared nonplussed on the surface. Close enough to truly see the lack of facial hair that made him appear younger than his years, Anne looked beyond the shadow of grime and wondered how he kept his jaw shorn so smooth.

"Aye, that's right," James said coolly. "It's _captain_ to you."

"A captain without a ship ain't much of a fucking captain, is he?" Jack growled, muscles tensing.

"I may be without a ship for now, but I never took the Pardon. A pirate with a royal pardon ain't much of a bloody pirate, _mate_. Rather be shipless than pandering to the King," James quipped back. For the first time in a long time, James allowed the little alcohol he had consumed to speak for him and watched as the sailors around Jack took a further step back, a murmur spreading among them. James turned to them. "You want to watch yourselves - old Jack here's got a reputation for marooning his crew without rhyme or reason."

"James..." Anne spoke softly and frantically, putting a hand on his arm to draw his attention from Jack and his aura which was now tinged with hints of red. "You know what he's like... it's probably best to-"

Jack's eyes widened furiously at _his_ woman's hand on James. " _You fuckin' crap sack_!"

Before either James nor Anne realised what was happening, Jack had covered the five paces between them, casting aside the table and landed a square right hook to James' jaw.

James' teeth rattled as he was nearly knocked from his center of gravity and he saw a flash of white. Dazed for a moment, Anne was saying something beside him, but he no longer heard. The white became red as he stretched his jaw and flew forward with a fist to Jack's gut.

With a solid "OOF!" Jack staggered backwards slightly before collecting himself and with a lowered head and charged towards James, slamming his fists into his chest while grabbing the lapels of his jacket.

Jack hauled James to his feet by the front of his green coat, taking a moment to hiss in his face as Anne ran over to try and intervene. "I've ended one James, I'll bloody end you too, _gobshyte lad."_

 _"Get your ratty hands off me, you bloody scurve."_ James hissed right back, kneeing Jack squarely in the knackers. Blinded with rage, he heaved James, spun him so his back was against the wooden rail and shoved upwards firmly, flipping James over the rail and to the deck below.

The air sailed past James' eyes as his orientation hung in disarray while he spun backwards in momentary freefall. Somewhere in the panic, he tried to get his muscles to respond to balance him out before it was too late, but time was not in his side, and the table on the deck below rushed up to meet him.

 _Aiming for around a ten-part story - there's so much about that the time from the Observatory and beyond that remains untold. I hope you enjoy this as much as I am still grieving for Mary. (Also, dammit Ubisoft. There's Black Bart and Ah Tabai action figures, but no James/Mary or Anne? Not cool.)_


	2. Dislocated & Discovered

**_2\. Dislocated & Discovered_  
**

 _"Komm geh mit mir zum Meer_  
 _um Freiheit zu versteh'n._  
 _Komm geh mit mir zum Meer_  
 _auch wenn wir untergeh'n."_

 _"Come with me to the sea,_  
 _to understand freedom,_  
 _Come with me to the sea,_  
 _even if we go under."_

\- Unheilig, Das Meer

There was a sickening thump and the sound of wood splintering from beyond the rail. A pained groan sounded a second later. For a moment nobody moved except Anne who was already heading for the steps down to the lower platform. Jack tried to move ahead of her to reach James, heading to finish what he'd started.

"For fuck's sake, leave off! He's damaged enough! Y _ou've made your point_." Anne stepped in front of him defiantly, putting herself between Jack's wrath and where James lay between two broken halves of a table.

He tried to push past her but she quickly seized his forearm, stopping him in his tracks and pulling him face to face with her by his waistcoat.

"Stop this. _Now."_ She growled through gritted teeth and something in Jack cowered in the eyes of his woman. He leaned back a little, recognising the ire of his fiery Irish woman.

"But he's _trying_ to have his wicked way with-"

" _No_ , John."

Jack balked at his birth name. Anne only used it when she lusted for him, or when he had displeased her. He hazarded a guess that it wasn't the former as she planted a hand squarely in the center of his chest and pushed him back a step.

" _I'm_ going to go and help James and _you're_ going to go home, carry on drinking, God knows if I care right now," Anne furiously cast a hand back up towards the steps, directing him.

For a moment, he didn't move. Anne tilted her head angrily.

" _Well?!"_

" _Fine_ ," He put his hands up in surrender and turned to go but stopped, adjusting his gaudy waistcoat before he yelled in the direction of where James had landed. "Put your grubby mitts on my woman again and I'll bloody keelhaul you!"

He turned and strode off while Anne shook her head in frustration, before rounding the final few steps to where James had landed.

He was lying squarely on his side, between the two halves of the table, face pressed into the ground and his right hand clawed at the Earth as he groaned, the white hot pain seared throughout him from his shoulder.

"Oh, Jim," Anne rushed to and crouched by James, who was now trying and failing to push himself into a seated position with one arm. "C'mon, Jim, let's have a look at you," Anne gently pulled him up and he couldn't meet her eyes as he grunted with pain, eyes watering, nausea from the pain spinning him where he sat.

Anne ran her eyes over James as he sat before her. His good arm instinctively reached around his left and he half-cryed out, stifling himself furiously.

"Steady... oh, Jim... what is it?" Anne felt helpless as she watched his face in what was becoming a permanent grimace. "Is your arm broken? Oh-!" Blood trickled from a headwound behind his bandana and Anne frantically reached for the rag she kept at her hip and gently wiped it away.

"I think... my shoulder's... out..." He said breathlessly through gritted teeth, rocking gently where he sat, trying not to cry or vomit, the pain causing what felt like a bullion of cold, hard gold to sit in his stomach. If he broke, she would surely _know._

Anne, a face of deep concern, glanced at the odd bulge at Jim's shoulder. She gently rested a hand on the opposite shoulder before lightly bringing the other hand up to compare. James winced away from the touch.

" _Please, don't..._ " He breathed, barely audible.

"It's alright- I won't, I won't," Anne reassured him quickly, soothing gently as her heart ached to see him in such pain. "I think you're right about it being out... there's an old navy doctor nearby, we'll get you sorted-"

James suddenly interjected, "No! _Please,_ Anne," he now looked up at her, tears streaming trails through grime about his jaw and Anne saw a horrendous vulnerability. "Not the doctor, _please..."_

Between swaying, James realized he was truly stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. Going to a doctor would mean... no, he couldn't risk being found out. No matter what. A heaviness set upon him as he realised his options were limited.

 _"_ Alright, lad, alright," she soothed, placing a hand on his knee, feeling utterly helpless while searching her mind frantically for options. "I don't know how to re-set an arm like this, Jim..."

James again whispered through a mountain of agony. "I do. I can tell you how..."

"Oh, Jim... I don't want to hurt you-" Anne stuttered, wondering what his aversion to the doctor was. Whatever it happened to be was clearly causing James a discomfort outside of his physical pain.

" _Please, Anne..."_ He now begged. He was broken, beat and the least he could hope for was for the inevitable to happen on his own terms.

 _"_ Alright..." Anne conceded, watching the blood seep through his bandana, mixing with the sweat there, his face contorted. She wondered aloud where would be suitable for aiding him. "Jack's probably at home... Micah's out in the warehouse... oh! Nobody's on the _Matthias..."_

James nodded, unable to formulate words through the pain.

"C'mon, Jim... let's get you to the ship..." Anne stood up slowly, hooking her arms under James' uninjured right arm. He groaned as he moved and Anne supported his weight as he stood, wrapping her arm around his waist, and pulling his right arm over her shoulder.

" _Fuck..."_ He moaned as every movement tugged at his shoulder.

"Steady, lad, I've got you," she said gently but firmly, allowing him to lean on her. As they, walked slowly away from The Old Avery to the docks, stopping every now and then to give James some respite, she pondered at how light he was and how thin at the waist he was. The diet of a life at sea could be unforgiving, but Anne wondered if he was possibly sickening for something. She dismissed this when she considered how healthy in the face he looked most of the time.

They entered the cabin in darkness to the smell of wood and musk, Anne holding the door so that James could step through. He hobbled gingerly as she led him to the bed that rested below the windows and had him sit down, before placing the lantern she carried on the table nearby.

He groaned and swayed, lowering his head while Anne returned to the door, shutting the salty air and the eyes of the world outside. There was no stopping what was about to happen. He only hoped that Anne didn't think any less of him, nor tell a soul.

"What do you need me to do?" She asked tentatively, breaking the silence as she kneeled before James.

He looked up and met her eyes, the soft flicker of the candle light marking the painful exhaustion under his eyes. "I... need to get my coat off... can you...?"

"Of course," Anne leant forward, removing his sword and pistol and placing them by the bed. "Can you put your right arm out?"

James did as he was told, and Anne removed the the curious blades that he kept bound at his wrists first. She'd only ever seen Edward wear a similar pair, and wondered where they had come from. She gently brought the sleeve forward as he pulled his arm back through, moving around him to bring the coat from his back. Now, all that remained was his left sleeve.

She hesitated. James nodded, sweating profusely in the cool night air. "It's alright..."

"I'll be as gentle as I can, I promise," she moved forward, giving him an apologetic look before reached over James to bring the coat over his left shoulder. James groaned a stream of curses as she gently moved it around the joint, and she raised his left hand a little to guide the rest of the coat from his arm.

It came away, and he swayed forward groaning. "I'm sorry, Jim," she whispered as she turned and hooked the coat on the corner of the bedframe.

She leant forward again to remove his shirt, hands reaching for the buttons on the white trim. Instinctively, he brought his good hand up to stop her.

"What is it? Is the pain is too much? We can stop for a minute if it's-"

"No... it's fine." James conceded, lowering his hand, realizing he was now only delaying the inevitable. He inhaled slowly as Anne watched his face curiously. "The sooner it's back in, the less damage it'll leave."

"Just say if it's too much or you want me to stop, alright, lad?" Anne spoke softly.

He nodded in response, his face pale with pain and wondering how the next few minutes would play out.

She began undoing the buttons, fingers moving deftly. One, two... and the third button. His shirt was now opened halfway down his chest, the wraps now visible.

James tensed as Anne paused for a moment, before carrying on as though she had seen nothing or had merely been admiring his tattoo. He blinked, but was stolen from his reverie when she proceeded to remove the shirt around his left shoulder, a blaze of pain firing through him. She apologized hurriedly, while he cursed and gripped at the edge of the bed with his free hand. She guided the shirt from both arms, and hung it atop the coat.

James was now sat in just his wraps, boots and trousers on the edge of the bed before Anne. He had never felt so exposed and naked as this, in all truths. It was a sight none had seen and a truth none had known for many years. If Anne was disgusted by what she saw, she showed no sign of it. If anything, quite the opposite.

The candle lit her face softly, and she smiled a kind smile and spoke, "Tell me what you need me to do, Jim."

James blinked again, fazed with pain and surprise at the lack of shock from his friend. "Unh... I need to lie down and then you should be beside me for this bit..."

"I've heard that before," She chuckled softly.

"Jaysus, I'm sorry, that's not-" For the first time in a long time, James was embarassed. Anne laughed softly.

"I know, lad, now scoot." She propped the pillow on the bed behind him higher against the wall. With a further groan, he shuffled backwards towards them and Anne picked his legs up by the boots to swing them onto the bed.

Once he had settled back against the pillow, Anne inhaled. "Alright. What do I do?"

"You need to put my hand on your shoulder and use your hands to push my upper arm... it's upwards, like... upwards and inwards," He tried to explain as best he could, a little nervously.

She paused before reaching for James' hand. "I'm sorry if this hurts-"

"It's alright, there's no _if_ about it... the sooner it goes back in, the less fucked I am," James laughed bitterly, the motion causing his shoulder to throb. "Agh..."

"Alright," Anne gently took James' left hand and raised it slowly to her shoulder, pausing and apologizing each time James winced and held his breath as pain swept through him. After a few seconds, James' left hand now rested on Anne's shoulder and she gently held it in place with her right hand, trying to stay as still as possible. Even the slightest movement contorted his facial expression, beads of sweat now rolling over his brow, mixing with the little blood at his temple.

"What now, Jim?" she whispered gently, giving the hand that rested on her shoulder a slight reassuring clasp, as though asking him to trust her.

"You need to use the other hand to grasp... " He grunted, as he pointed to his upper arm. "And angle it back in... swiftly."

Anne nodded and reached forward to place her hand on the inside of his upper arm, the muscles taught under clammy, cool flesh, being as careful as possible not to move the rest of her as she did so. "Here?"

James nodded, his breathing had sped up with the pain. "Maybe count down... so I can brace for it..."

"What's your name?" She asked gently, holding his eyes as he looked up at her, confused by the change of subject.

"James," He smirked, through the grimace.

"You know what I mean..." Anne chuckled. _Waiting..._

"It's Mary," James said, his voice becoming lighter and softer, somehow. "Mary Read."

"Mary," Anne rolled the sound around her tongue, tasting the word to see if it matched what she saw, casting her eyes across Mary's face and frame. "How long have you been living as man...?"

"Since I was small, maybe six or-"

Mary didn't get to complete her sentence.

Suddenly, Anne pushed forward, suddenly gripping Mary's upper arm and with the momentum, angled the arm back into it's joint with a sickening, deep and resonant pop.

Mary screamed, bolting upright, her hand reaching for the nearest thing to grip, which happened to be Anne's shoulder, who instinctively looped that arm around her. She fell forward into Anne's arms and as the scream subsided, it lead into painful sobbing.

"I'm sorry Jim- I'm sorry," Anne apologized profusely as Mary cried, using her spare arm to work around her friend who was clinging to her like a raft in a storm, to bring the injured arm into Mary's lap, letting it rest there. She then wrapped her own arm around Mary to join the other, enveloping her in a hug, holding her close to her chest, speaking soothing words into her hair.

They remained like that for a few minutes, Mary sobbing what seemed like years of tears and Anne gently stroking her hair. When Mary had calmed, Anne stepped back a little.

"I'm sorry, Jim... "

After a few moments, "It's alright..." She breathed. "I think it worked."

Anne gently reached to Mary's face, wiping away the tears that had streamed from Mary's eyes. "It was the only way to do it. I thought if you weren't expecting it..."

"I wasn't fucking expecting that, quite right," Mary grinned with a hint of pain, as Anne guided her back onto the pillow into more of a sitting position and perched on the bed beside her. Mary turned and looked into the green eyes that met hers. " _Thankyou."_

"I'd say anytime but I don't think you want that to be a pastime," Anne smiled.

"No," Mary said quickly.

Anne looked at her and gestured to her chest. "Do you have any spare wraps?"

Mary raised an eyebrow.

"I like my bosom how it is. For your _shoulder_. You'll need to sling it up for a few days."

"In the one of the pockets of my coat," Mary replied, pointing where it hung at the end of the bed. "I forget which one."

Anne reached for the coat, bringing it into her lap to search the pockets. After a moment, she pulled the length of material from the pocket before standing to return the coat to the bedpost.

"Sit up a bit," Anne spoke softly and Mary did so.

Anne stood up and gently brought the wrap around her shoulder, apologizing again for the pain as Mary groaned. She seemed in less pain than before, but enough to mark her as out of action for a few weeks. Carefully, she brought Mary's arm up, resting her hand on the opposite collarbone and bound it there.

"How long have you been living as James?" Anne asked gently, as she tied a knot in the material behind Mary's neck and settled her back against the pillow again, perching on the bed beside her.

"Since I was six or seven. My brother died and my father's mother wouldn't have kept paying to support my mother and me, because I was a girl," Mary explained. "So... I became him. Dressed in his finest clothes, a boy for all intents and purposes."

"I'm sorry to hear about your brother, lad..." Anne said sympathetically. "Lass. Lad."

Mary chuckled at Anne's confusion before continuing. "It's alright, you can call me Mary. I don't really remember him... but I am thankful for the freedoms his death afforded me."

"Freedoms?"

"Aye, I can drink, go where I very well please and earn my own money... it's freedom, or a vague semblance of it," Mary explained, her eyes lit up a little. "I'm never belittled for speaking out of place, nor expected to churn out children for a man..." Mary paused, judging Anne's face as it processed what she was telling her. Her voice changed - less deep than moments before and more female than prior. "Are you angry?"

"Jaysus, of course not, Mary..." Anne hurriedly responded, pausing as she said the new name aloud again. "Whatever for?"

Mary looked awkward for a moment. "That... that I am, well... how I am?"

"Oh! Mary, not at all." Anne reassured her, patting her hand. "Don't even think that. It's like Edward always says when he's prattling on some grand speech... being a pirate is about being who you will, self-made men, I think he says."

"Edward and his speeches," Mary rolled her eyes. "He's a bit of a bloody ponce sometimes."

Anne laughed. "He's got a point. Every man's a sinner of some kind out here, with far greater things to hide than a pair of tits."

"I... never looked at it that way," Mary pondered for a moment, considering Anne's wisdom.

Anne smiled before nodding to Mary's chest. "Does it... _hurt?_ Keeping them tied down?"

"The ache ceased a few years ago," Mary whispered. "I learnt to manage the pain along with the hell of rags and monthly blood."

Anne nodded appreciatively of the ardour involved. "It must be hard, hiding all the time..."

"Not so. I 'spose James is just... a curious extension," Mary brought her hand to her jaw, stroking either side of it as though she truly had facial hair.

Anne chuckled, noticing the mannerism and understanding why Mary kept a decent layer of grime about her. Mary looked quizzically at Anne.

"Nothing," She smiled before nodding to the blood that was seeping from Mary's bandana. "I should clean that up too."

Mary raised her fingertips to the red as it trickled past the edge of her eyebrow before looking at it on her fingertips. "Piss." She breathed, before pulling the bandana over her head and placing it on the bed beside her. As she did so, her hair came free of it's tie, falling about her face. The transformation complete, Anne watched as Mary brushed it from her face with her hand. Where James had been was someone else entirely and Anne understood how she had kept the wool over everyone's eyes.

Anne pulled a spare cloth from the frog at her belt and leant forward, wiping away the blood and leaning in to inspect the wound.

"It's not too deep..." Anne muttered, allowing Mary's hand to replace hers, holding the cloth in place to staunch it. "It should heal fine by itself, though I think it'll scar, lass."

"Another one to impress the women with," Mary laughed under her breath.

"So, who knows? About Mary?" Anne asked, curious as to the circle Mary kept in regards to her secret.

"Kenway, my mother and... Thatch knew," Mary replied, pausing as she spoke Blackbeard's name. In her time learning from Ah Tabai, she had learnt that amongst his people, speaking someone's name after they had passed on was considered ill-fated, a bad omen of sorts.

The sudden sound of footsteps on wood caused them both to look up as the door to the cabin was flung open. Jack stood in the doorway and took in the sight before him - his woman with a half-naked James _bloody_ Kidd. He pointed his finger at Anne, furiously, crossing the ground between them.

"I knew it, you wench! As soon as my back is turned-" He stopped eyes widening, as the lantern light made visible what he hadn't seen before.

"And now bloody Jack." Mary muttered.

" _Jaysus._ Are those _tits_?!"

Mary and Anne looked to eachother in alarm, and Anne stood up, raising her hands defensively "Jack-"

His face broke into a slightly maniacal grin as he brought two fingers to his temple, closing his eyes for a moment.

"You're telling me that my wife was nearly bedded by another _woman?_ " He started laughing, uncontrollably, pacing to the left and right, bringing a hand across his jaw.

"I wasn't going to bed her," Mary spoke up, in the deeper tones of James as she pushed herself up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

"Of course you weren't," He said sarcastically as he continued laughing. "This is... unbelievable and queer as anything. That said, where the bloody hell was my invite?"

Anne glanced at Mary and they shared a look: _this is certainly an unexpected reaction._

Jack continued to pace, waving a hand at Mary as he laughed. "James _bloody fuckin'_ Kidd... is a fuckin' _woman_."

"Tits and all," Mary shrugged from where she perched on the edge of the bed, Anne still hovering between the two, lest Jack's temper flare.

"You fight, walk and talk like a _man_ ," Jack continued, now stopping to face Mary, the candle light dancing across his oddly patterned waistcoat. "Fuckin'... Jaysus. I've broken a _woman_."

Anne watched his face as he mulled it over, he seemed to have sobered since earlier and shadows hung under his eyes. For a man who lived a life like he had, Jack Rackham had odd principles. His father, the elder John Rackham, had been a foul-tempered navy man who had taken to silencing Jack's mother with a fist as he saw fit, mostly without reason and sometimes for sick sport. John had fallen foul of one of his own swords when Jack was fifteen. The savage man had turned his fists to Jack's sister one night, his mother already nursing a blackeye and Jack snapped, running him through with the blade.

Jack left home for the sea a few days later and never returned. He had stepped in several times in his life when some domestic disputes had spilled onto the streets or he saw a man raising his hand to a woman.

Unexpectedly, he turned to Mary, his brow furrowed. "...can you forgive me?"

Mary's eyebrows were raised in shock. She nearly laughed at the absurd situation she suddenly found herself in. Calico Jack was _apologising._ She tried to read his face for any deception and searched for any red in his aura, but found none.

"I'll keep your secret if you keep mine," Mary said simply and locked eyes with him, burning him where he stood. He knew she also meant what he had told her about James Bonny, out of Anne's earshot during the fight.

He nodded. "Aye," before glancing at her arm where it hung across her chest. "How bad is it?"

"It was out of socket, but we've fixed it up," Anne explained and Mary's brow creased with the recent memory of pain. "Should be a week, maybe two..."

Once more, a genuine look of guilt crossed Jack's face as Mary watched. Again she was surprised and confused by how complex a devil Jack was turning out to be.

Jack looked awkwardly around the room. "I'll err... let you two finish here." He turned to Mary. "You can rest onboard as long as you need."

Mary nodded her appreciation as he left, closing the door behind him. They listened to his footsteps on deck fade away before Anne turned to Mary.

"He's not a bad lad, just... got his compass spinning queerly some days," Anne sighed, sitting beside Mary. "Leaving... Ephraim with the Cunninghams was his idea and all." Mary was surprised at hearing the name of the child that Anne had borne Jack last year. She rarely spoke of him - Mary suspected it was a terribly painful subject for her.

Jack and Anne had agreed that neither were fit to raise a child and Jack had promised once he'd made his fortune in a few years, they'd return to collect him. Thomas Cunningham was a childhood friend of Jack's who'd joined the navy and never strayed from an honest life. Jack had asked him a favour to which he had gladly obliged, with his wife and himself taking in Ephraim to live with them in South Carolina.

"I still can't trust him after he marooned Edward," Mary spoke quietly and apologetically, recalling Edward rolling into Inagua looking haggard and skinny on a stolen boat.

"I know," Anne sighed, turning to Mary. It was her turn to proposition a potent idea to her friend. "What if... you become Mary... _all_ of the time?"

Mary thought for a moment. "I don't know, Anne..."

"You've been trying to convince me to become as you are and you don't even have the balls to do it yourself?" Anne asked, giving Mary a knowing smile. "I mean, not that you have balls as we've since discovered, but..."

"Aye," Mary said, eyes dancing as she mulled it over. "I need to think about it."

"Well, consider it at least? To defy everything the world thinks a woman should be. The world's men would be terrified of such a thing, womenfolk as pirates, like Lilith herself had daughters." Anne recounted her Catholic upbringing, as she mused on the idea that Mary had planted in her mind earlier on.

Mary nodded, tiredness was beginning to weigh on her along with the exhaustion of still being in pain. Anne noticed Mary sway a little where she sat and stood up, lifting Mary's legs back onto the bed.

"C'mon, lass, you should rest," Anne said softly, unbuckling the boots and placing them on the floor by the bed. "How is the pain?"

"Still making itself known," Mary shivered as she lay back against the pillow, guided again by Anne, the shock of the day and pain weighing on her. "Would you pass my sword and pistol? Just in case anybody gets ideas about robbing the ship."

Anne nodded and placed them by Mary, before she drew the rough blanket up over her friend. She then drew her own pistol as Mary watched, holding it up in the candle light. "I'll have mine with me, too. I'll stay here with you, just in case of such events."

Mary, not one to ask for help, knew that Anne meant to stay if she needed help with the pain or basic tasks and was touched by the gesture.

"It's a fine flintlock, that," Mary watched the sheen of the wood in the light before Anne placed it back in it's holster.

"Finer than any band of gold - t'was a wedding gift of sorts from Jack," Anne explained as she walked to the cot opposite, shifting her dress and laying down, hand resting on the flintlock where it lay beside her.

"Have you ever fired it?" Mary asked as sleep began wrapping it's arms around her, eyes half open.

Anne paused. "In a word, no, but if I wave it at some bugger and shriek like a banshee, they're not going to know that."

Mary laughed softly, trailing off into a moment of silence before she whispered.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Jim."

Mary Read fell asleep smiling.

* * *

 **I know, I'm a terrible person for using an injury as the plot point to link the bar scene at the Observatory with how Jack and Anne find out that James is Mary.**

 **As for the mention of Jack and Anne having a son - work with me! According to history they did leave a son in Cuba. Kinda neat to think that someone out there is their descendant and has no idea.**

 **(Putting the odd, hopefully relevant lyrical anecdote from the playlist I've put together to write this. The playlist itself includes stuff from Unheilig, Santiano, Seabound, Alestorm, Dropkick Murphys, Flogging Molly and the like. This one's from "Grosse Freiheit" which is a pretty incredible seafaring album.)**


	3. Up She Rises

**3\. Up She Rises**

 _"Wa-hey, up she rises,_

 _Wa-hey, up she rises,_

 _Wa-hey, up she rises,_

 _Early in the morning."_

\- Drunken Sailor, Traditional,

Mary awoke the next morning to a cool breeze passing over her brow, the vague tinge of salt on the air and the idle chit chat from the docks as low hum to her ears. She went to turn over and immediately regretted it, launching into a mighty stream of curses and her shoulder screamed.

Stopping to take a number of deep breaths until it subsided, she opened her eyes, wiping away the dust. The door to the cabin was open, blue skies and sea visible from the square of outside vision it allowed. She glanced to Anne's empty cot, panicking for a moment in case something had happened to her, but her fear was allayed when she heard a voice, singing a saturnine song in an Irish lilt from beyond the door. She liked hearing Anne sing, they were strange unknown songs most of the time, and more often than not sad, but beautiful.

She crossed the threshold a few moments later, dress swaying lightly in the morning air, a few loose strands of hair glowing serenely in the wind.

"Good morning to you," Anne smiled as she walked over to the bed, placing a bottle of rum and a flask of water down beside Mary. "For the pain." She nodded to the bottle of rum.

Mary sat herself up and Anne passed her the water flask, which she drank from thirstily until it had emptied, gasping as she finished it one go. "Thank you."

"That's alright. How is the pain?"

"It aches like I've been hanging from the rigging by one arm all night," Mary replied, gingerly. "I'd take being keelhauled over it anyday."

"That's to be expected... best get some booze down ye," Anne said gently and Mary swigged from the bottle shakily. Anne pulled a mango from her pocket. "Perhaps not on an empty stomach, eh?"

"Thank you," Mary nodded her appreciation, and sat forward on the edge of the bed. The nausea from the pain had subsided and she bit into the mango hungrily. It was gone within a minute and Anne watched the color perk up in her cheeks a bit. Mary had looked a little grey since last night, a grim palor about her skin.

"We should get you some sunlight soon, be good for you," Anne watched Mary's hand shake as she took another swig from the bottle of rum, clinking it down by her feet.

"Right now, booze is good for me," Mary chuckled sarcastically, the bottle clinking as she set it down on the floor, a wave of pain protesting at the movement.

"Whatever works, lass," Anne conceded. "I think Jack wants to talk about some grand plan he's got for today. He's spied a schooner that's due to leave tomorrow that he's taken a bit of a fancy to it so I need to go and talk him out of doing anything bloody-minded."

"This is Jack we're talking about, aye?"

"I know, I know. I can but try to dissuade him and his foibles," Anne smiled.

"I'll come with you. Let him revel in the one and only time he beat James Kidd," Mary suggested.

"Well, alright. Let's get you up proper, shall we?"

Anne helped Mary to dress, re-tying her wraps and re-slinging her arm across her chest, before managing to get at least one arm into both her shirt and coat. Mary gritted her teeth through the process, with Anne apologising profusely. Finally, the other sleeve hung limply on the side and Anne helped her comb her back and tied it up, before tying the bandana across her forehead.

She stood before Jim, as he sat before her and pulled him to his feet, looking him up and down for a moment. "And _there's_ the handsome James Kidd. Let's go."

Mary smiled from behind James for a moment, before following Anne out the door and into the daylight.

They headed for The Old Avery, Mary occasionally swaying dizzily. Gently, Anne looped her arm through Mary's, to support her, while making it look like Anne herself was being escorted by a gentleman. As covers went, it worked well.

From down the street, Mary and Anne could see Jack, addressing a table of about ten sailors, stood with his knee on a stool, hands gesturing wildly as he spoke. As they approached, his voice carried tones in the shade of promises of riches.

"... it'll be an easy take, lads, and if that's not enough for you, I hear it's carrying enough rum to sink a fishing boat!"

James looked from Jack, where he wove a net of promise over the sailors, to Anne, who wore a deep frown.

"And here's the lad, now!" Jack called as the pair approached and he met James' eyes while still speaking to his captive audience. "Let's say... Jim and I had a very gentlemanly disgreement as to how much rum would truly sink a boat. Fortunately, for me my right hook is mightier but Jim truly is William Kidd's bastard. A devil in a rage and mark my words, one to seldom cross."

"Aye, only thing that saved you a broken rib was your dandy coat," Mary followed his lead, if a little flatly to drive the point home. Nevertheless the sailors roared heartily, slurping from tankards and bottles as Mary and Anne joined the table.

"To James Kidd!" Jack thrust his tankard in the air, beer spilling over the edges. "Right bastard. Good man."

James felt his cheeks flush as the sailors all turned to him, tankards clinking in the air.

Jack shuffled for a moment as a large insect buzzed about his head. He muttered a few curses as he swatted it away, to the amusement of the sailors.

"Where was I... ah, yes. On riches and plunder," He swayed, gesturing extravagantly. "Tonight, lads, we take the _William_!"

"Hear, hear!" Infused with the atmosphere, Jim raised the tankard that another sailor had placed before him amidst the other raised tankards. The tug in his heart at the prospect of another unpredictable and hopefully prosperous journey at sea reeled him in by the soul and hooked his mind. It was fortunate that getting out to sea served another purpose, the proverbial two birds, one stone.

Anne who had remained quiet until now, looked sideways to James.

"Jim, you're not thinking about joining them? Look at you," Anne whispered, her voice one of concern. "You're in no shape for this folly."

He turned to her, hushedly. "I _have_ to Anne. I have... official business of sorts and I need passage."

"But, now...?" Anne looked down at the sling and back to his eyes.

"It's not ideal, but it'll have to do," James was insistent, putting his tankard down in front of him. "I can still wield my blade well enough with one arm."

"James..." Anne sighed, watching the same fire in James' eyes flare, every time he spoke of "official business" or the sea. "This is madness."

"It is. I'll not deny you that," James conceded. "But a necessary madness. I'm sorry, Anne."

Anne pulled a face, before speaking decisively. "Aye, Jim. But I'm coming with you." She saw James about to disagree but cut him off before he could begin. "You've only got _one bloody arm_ right now. I'll be the other."

James paused and considered this, knowing that she would not be dissuaded. He was convincing her to become as he was. As _she_ was. There was no better time to start, given the circumstances.

"Well... you know your own mind, as I know mine," James spoke softly. "At least let me train you first."

"We have until sunset."

"It will do."

As the sun, sank lower on the horizon, the steady clang of metal rung out across the sand. The water swayed gently at the edge of the empty beach. The grains were steadily tussled by Anne's dancing feet as she darted this way and that, avoiding James' sword as they parried.

"When you see a man tense to attack," James' lunged forward with a light swing of his sword. "Go _against_ your instinct. Relax around it."

"How does that help?" Anne panted, as she fended off the swing, hair swaying over her shoulder. The clang sent a shockwave through James and he leant over for a minute, raising his fingers from his sword in temporary surrender. The pain rattled his bones and his shoulder, and he breathed tightly through his nose for a moment.

"You'll be able to move out of the way and... see where he's going to go, where he'll swing for next," He explained, breathing around the pain.

"Alright... do you need to stop?" Anne walked over, sheathing the cutlass, resting her hand on his good shoulder.

"Aye, jus' for a minute," He ambled to the palm tree nearby and leant against it wearily, Anne following.

"Jim..." Anne stood by him for a moment, watching him work through the pain. That afternoon, they had begun with the wedding flintlock, taking out empty bottles on crates. He was a good teacher and after a few rounds, Anne was hitting most of them. She learnt to relax her arm against the kickback and managed to not break a thumb in the process, enjoying the shattering glass ringing out, a shower of shards scattering over the sand.

She had also taken James by surprise, when as he walked over to inspect the array of glass, impressed by her progress, the bang of the gun had sounded and a crab that had been scuttling away less than a foot away from him suddenly flew up and over one of the crates. A stream of curses from James and a cocky smile from Anne, and they knew her aim was fair.

Now, James looked tired. Anne continued. "Are you sure you want to do this tonight?"

"You know my mind is unchangeable. I need a stake in that ship for..."

"Official business, _I know_." Anne replied. He had repeated this to her many times this afternoon and he smiled up at her.

"I'm sure, Anne. Your shot's grand and your parrying is as up to scratch as I can get it with the little time we have to prepare," James leaned heavily against the tree and Anne leaned beside him as they took a moment to rest and watch the waves tease the sands.

Unexpectedly, a voice spoke from nearby, a soft, almost muted accent. "That is a fine sword technique you have there, Miss Bonny."

They both looked up to see one of Jack's new crew, stood watching them, a crate of shot for the raid in his arms. No more than thirty years of age, he wore mousey brown hair in a loose ponytail, strands loose and flailing in the gentle breeze. A scar coursed over the edge of his lips and his facial hair was trimmed to frame the sides of his face.

"Thank you," Anne nodded appreciatively. None of the other sailors passing had said anything about her, a woman, practicing parrying with a cutlass until now. She watched his face, looking for any malicious intent, yet she found none. She suddenly found herself beaming from within - a compliment for her skills and not her assets. In that moment, she began to understand what James had meant when he explained why he favored living as _him_ self.

The man looked from James to Anne, pondering for a moment, before placing his crate down. "Would you like to parry? I see Kidd here is weary and I can probably spare a few minutes before Jack gets pissed off."

Anne looked to James and then to the sailor, his expression remained open and unthreatening. James nodded, seeing an opportunity to test what Anne had learnt and grateful for being able to rest without giving Anne cause for concern.

"If you can spare a few minutes, I'd be glad to," Anne said, a wry smile spreading about her face. "I'll warn you, this is new to me."

The sailor nodded. "Of course," he said, placing the crate down and shaking his arms free of the ache of carrying it. He drew his cutlass from his waist and raised it straight up in front of his eyes. Instinctively, his left arm rested behind him in a gentle fist. James watched this and knowingly smiled as Anne drew her cutlass in turn.

"Ready?" He asked, as they stood a few paces from eachother.

"Aye," Anne nodded, adrenalin already rushing through her veins. She lunged forward and the parrying began.

James observed as Anne blocked and moved as he had taught her, defensively at first, blocking shots as they came before waiting for him to relax his attack, taking the opportunity to startle the sailor with a run of blows. He parried these, surprised at the sudden rush and a little unprepared.

Anne didn't just parry - she danced with the sword, finding the place in her mind, the focus that James recognised from himself. As she skirted left and right smoothly moving around the sailor's lunges. He wondered then if she too had the sight; her eyes never missed a nuance in the sailor's body language, which currently read surprise.

A short while and several clangs later, Anne brought her cutlass around against the sailor's, clipping it upwards and sending his blade clattering to the sand. He raised his hands with a surprised smile, and she grinned dangerously with her cutlass pointing at his solar plexus for a moment, before sheathing it.

"I've fought soldiers with less skill. Well done, Miss Bonny," He said earnestly, holding out his hand warmly. She gripped it courteously, thanking him.

James spoke up with a knowing smile and the pair turned to him, where he was now propped up and looking less pained. "Takes one to know one, right?"

"How do you mean?" The sailor replied, re-tying his cumberbund.

"You haven't always used a cutlass like that, aye?" James said, folding his one good arm across himself.

The sailor taken back by James' sharp observation, nodded. "This is true. I was a soldier once."

"So was I. Your technique is familiar. Reminds me of the Dutch soldiers." James continued, now stroking his jaw.

"I am from Flanders. Left the Dutch navy a few years ago." He explained, impressed by James' eye for a soldier, before glancing up as Jack's voice called out from near the dock.

"What're you bloody doing, Dutchie? The ship won't load itself!"

"Well, I should go. Again, you are skilled with a sword, Miss Bonny," The sailor nodded before he leant down, hauling the crate into his arms and nodding to them both. "See you later on."

"Thank you for your time, lad," James nodded, appreciatively as he turned about heel with the crate. "What's your name?"

"Lodewyc." He called over his shoulder, heading towards the crowd of sailors on the dock by Jack's ship. "The others call me Ludo."

Anne and James watched the Flemish man stroll away in silence for a moment, before noting the sailors were now all gathering by the _Matthias_ , as the setting sun cast long shadows at their feet.

"Time to sink or swim, I 'spose," Anne exhaled nervously.

The sky was now a mid blue, the stars breaking through the warm air lightly and a gentle breeze carried over the _Matthias_ as it sat at the docks. The crew shuffled around busily, taking care of menial tasks in preparation to set sail, light song breaking out here and there amongst them.

Walking towards the steps that led up to the wheel, Jack strode forward, Anne two steps behind with James following slower so as not to intrude yet offer support if necessary.

"You're staying, Anne. A ship's no place for a woman," Jack shut her down as he reached the wheel, bemused by her request to join his crew as a sailor, _a pirate._

 _If only you knew._ Anne bit back the retort to spare James, where he turned and sat on the steps, wearing a face of concern as he listened to the conversation. He adjusted his coat where it hung loosely over his injured shoulder. The low level of alcohol he had maintained to get through the day was wearing off and he felt muzzy-headed as he breathed in the sticky evening air.

"Forgive me, Captain, but she is a fearsome devil with a sword," the quiet Flemish sailor spoke up from where he readied the nearest cannon.

"And my left arm," James piped up from where he sat, adding weight to Anne's request.

"That may be, but the crew will be too distracted by her wiles." Jack explained casting an eye to Anne's chest, a slight smile breaking the corner of his mouth.

"If a man chooses to observe her... _wiles_ instead of the blade pressed to his chest, he deserves to be cut." Ludo spoke, perching against the cannon.

"Oi, Dutchie! Are you looking at my lady's wiles?" Jack sauntered down the steps in good humor but maintained a physical and subtly threatening presense, warning Ludo off as he unconsciously placed himself between him and Anne.

The Flemish man tilted his head to the side, looking past him. "Perhaps the better question is... are you?"

Jack spun about to follow Ludo's gaze to find Anne directly behind, stood with poise and confidence before him, cutlass brandished before her at Jack's neck level, flintlock pointed squarely at his stomach and wearing a face of sheer grit, adorned by a wry smile from James behind her.

"Well, when you put it like that..." Jack raised an eyebrow and swore he could not have loved Anne more than he did in that moment. He broke his reverie to dreamily speak. "Fine. Are the cannons ready, Dutchie?"

"Flemish," Ludo replied nonchalantly from behind him.

"Bless you. Are the cannons ready?" He spoke without looking at Ludo as he strode up the steps and past James.

"Aye, captain," Ludo nodded dutifully. James smiled. _Once a soldier..._

"What's your name, man?" Jack paused halfway up to look at the Flemish man over his shoulder.

"Lodewyc van der Velde."

"Exaaaactly! Dutch." Jack waved his hands in a flourish to exemplify his point, before striding up the steps and taking the wheel, raising a hand and shouting to the crew. "We set sail in five minutes!"

James cheered somewhat unenthusiastically from where he sat, his hand running over his flintlock nervously. Anne stood on the step beside him, hanging the cutlass loosely from one hand and placing the other on his shoulder. He looked up at her and they shared a nervous smile, wondering what would come of this night.

 **Thanks for the reviews so far! Hope you're enjoying it. This chapter was originally 16 pages so, I've split this one in two. Gets a little bloodthirsty next time!**


	4. My Name Was Captain Kidd

_**4\. My Name Was Captain Kidd**_

 _"My name was Captain Kidd, as I sailed, as I sailed,_

 _My name was Captain Kidd, when I sailed,_

 _My name was Captain Kidd and God's laws I did forbid,_

 _And so wickedly I did, as I sailed."_

 **\- traditional**

Night had truly fallen by the time they left Nassau. The air was still and the lights of the town faded on the horizon behind the _Matthias_ as it crossed the calm sea like a drifting gull. The moon hung low, crossed occasionally by a sea bird of some kind as James stared at it from where he stood on the stern deck.

The atmosphere onboard was tense with anticipation, hushed conversations and muttering carried by the humid air. All eyes were cast out to sea, waiting to sight the _William_ , the glow from the moon providing just enough light to carry out the necessary tasks and running of the ship.

As James took in the view of the moon, he became aware of someone stepping to stand beside him.

Whoever it was remained quiet for a moment, content in also gazing upon the moon. After a few moments, the stranger spoke. "How do you fare, James?" It was the distinctive soft-accented voice of Ludo.

James turned to look at the sailor who stood with his arms locked loosely behind his back, looking out on the horizon, his military posture causing James subconsciously straighten up a little.

"Aye, not bad, aside having only one good arm to fight with," James replied, chuckling a little under his breath and ignoring the dull, nauseating ache. "Yourself?

"Well, thankyou. Though... nervous if truth be told," Ludo said, a furrow settling in his brow, the moonlight giving him a gaunter appearance than previously.

"Nervous?" James gave him his full attention.

"Yes. Cowardly as it might be, this will be the most significant thing I've done since leaving the navy... and to be taking a Dutch ship..." He trailed off.

James nodded, going to fold his arms, but having to make do with bringing his right across his middle in a vague imitation, he spoke from with a wistful look. "The first one's the most terrifying. It's the point when you know you can't go back - but when it's done... you realize that under this daft sky, the ideas of a king living in a high tower somewhere back home matter very little. You are beholden to _none_ and these are your skies and seas."

"Now, to find out if I have- _haar op mijn tanden-_ how do you say..." He paused, trying to find the words to explain the phrase.

"Hair on your teeth. I've not heard that in a while." James mused, recalling the tongue of a buried memory.

Ludo looked up surprised that she understood what he had said. "You speak Dutch?"

"Spent a short while on a Dutch vessel in my younger days, _vriend,_ " James replied as the past glazed his eyes a little. He turned slightly to see Jack and Anne by the wheel, Anne leaned into his shoulder in one of their quieter moments. They whispered things to eachother that James couldn't make out, but decided he didn't want to.

Ludo followed his line of gaze. "They're an odd couple."

James grinned wryly. "Aye, he's a rat bastard and she's divine. Yet, it works. The way he looks at her..."

It was an honest observation, having watched their relationship develop overtime. From the first time Jack had tried to impress her and fallen off his stool, to the long courting of bringing Anne odd trinkets from his various escapades and now to the way his face seemed less haggard somehow as he held her at his side; James knew that they could only be parted by the greatest of misfortune, an unfavorable divine hand that would see one of them leave the world.

Though they had never said such words aloud in a wedding vow before a God that would likely shun them, 'til death do us part was their motif. It was just a shame that death was closer for them than it would be for a pastor most days.

"You have a sweetheart out there somewhere?"

James blinked, broken from his train of thought, only half hearing what Ludo had said. "What?"

"A woman, someone who watches the waves for your return," Ludo continued, turning back to the moon.

James paused, lowering his head a little and chose to speak of someone he had not spoken of in almost a decade. "Aye. Once. Somewhere in Brabant. She... is long buried." He stumbled on the pronoun for a moment, remembering to be careful.

Ludo immediately frowned. "I apologise for my boldness... and for your loss."

"It was many years ago now. She was Flemish," James smiled, awash with the face and voice of a love that would have been forever in any other time and place. "We settled together and ran an inn when we- _I_ left the Dutch navy. What about you?"

Ludo stretched and inhaled. "I had a sweetheart once too. She died in childbirth while I was away, scouting the West Indies on a sloop."

"I'm sorry, lad," James slowly nodded his head.

"And here we are talking of things that the rest of the crew would mock, lest they hear us speaking," Ludo spoke even softer, gesturing to the rest of the ship. "With their want of an easy lay and simple pleasures..."

"Aye, but pay no mind. It's always a fine day to meet a countryman," James put his unburdened hand on Ludo's shoulder in solidarity, who in turn looked at the hand. He looked confused for a moment, the fingers were... slight, delicate but calloused. Before he could speak, a haggard brogue yelled from further down the ship distracted them.

"It's the _William_ , Captain!"

There was a shuffling of feet and murmuring as the crew followed the pointed arm of another sailor and sure enough, on the western horizon, a black smudge sat atop the calm seas and visible above that, the slightest hint of Dutch colours on the sails.

Jack leant out of Anne's arms, moving to the edge of the stern deck, hand gripping the handle of his cutlass as it sat in it's holster. Seeing it with his own eyes, he dashed to the wheel.

"Foresail, headsail, lugl, jib, lateen! Give me everything she's got, lads!" Jack cried to the deck as he spun the wheel towards the west. Two and half score pairs of hands met the ropes.

"HEAVE!"

Ludo dashed down to the rigging, his shirt hanging from his wiry frame in the wind. James remained where he was, feeling a curious pang of sadness at not being fit to join them. It had been a while since he had felt vital to a crew, needed amongst his kind. To distract himself, he joined Jack and Anne at the wheel.

"What's the plan, Jack?" He said, steadying himself on the rail in front as the ship careened to the left.

"We ram them on the portside and bring them in for a dicey cuddle," Jack's eyes remained firmly on the horizon, ablaze with anticipation. "Raise the flag!"

A few hands moved to the ropes behind them and unfurled the black material. James watched as it caught the light breeze, it's design catching his eye. A skull in white sat in the center, complimented by two crossed swords below it and as it was hoisted for the first time, James smirked.

"A bit tacky, but it'll drive the point home. Lord help us if we're forever associated with something like that."

"Hey! It took me hours to design that, it did!" Jack called in his defense, almost looking hurt. Almost.

"And two weeks of sewing, you arse!" Anne turned to him, reminding him of his indecision and sudden changes of heart that had resulted in her sewing and unsewing constantly.

James nodded, reaching into his ammo pouch and counted 30 uneven lead balls. He had practiced reloading one-handed earlier on and found that tucking the pistol in the nook of the elbow of his injured arm and using the right to work around it proved fastest, giving him a square 8 seconds between shots. Of course, there was the risk that it would slip, catching the mechanism and he'd find himself with a bleeding hole in his side, maybe a fucked kidney. He hoped it would be time enough.

As he mulled it over, Anne appeared at his side.

"This is really it, isn't it Jim?" She breathed, eyes trained on the horizon as she tried to dry her sweaty palms on her dress.

"This is just another storm to weather, lass." Her hand looped into his and he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"That it is," Jack spoke calmly from behind them, out of earshot of the crew, then he changed to a grandiose tone. "The swords are our lightning to strike the cunts down and the cannons will be the thunder that will make them fear _every_ storm to come, for they'll always bloody remember the day that Captain Jack Rackham found the cowards."

James and Anne turned to him, eyebrows raised.

"Forgive me," he smirked, getting their point. "They'll always remember the day that Rackham, Kidd and Bonny found them. Pleased, ladies?"

They nodded in turn, James scowling at his turn of speech for a moment before they turned to face the horizon, the sails whipping in front of them.

A scant hour later, the _Matthias_ had gained on the _William_ considerably and though the _William_ had tried to sail faster and harder into the night, the _Matthias_ was now breaching into it's wake as panicked shouts and orders carried on the breeze from the other ship. The sky had clouded above them in the time it had taken to gain and the air around them crackled against their skin in the humid air.

"We're gaining, Captain! They're too heavily burdened to escape!" A sailor yelled from the fore of the ship, and Jack slowly smiled a wicked expression.

"Fire the chain shot!" Jack growled and raised a fist to the wind as it whipped up around him.

He had barely finished his request when the THUNK of the cannon fired, and the linked shot soared ahead, flying through the mainsail of the _William_ , the material now flapping around as though pained to have been shot.

"It hit the sail, Captain, it'll slow her right down!"

"A fine shot!" Jack replied, steering alongside the _William_ , watching as the enemy crew scattered for the cannons. They were running less than full capacity, prime for an easy victory. "Brace yourself, lads!"

The _William_ opened fire, an unexpected volley that tore into the side of the _Matthias,_ wood on the starboard side creaking and splintering nastily as a few cries of pain echoed in the air. The storm kicked up, thunder booming, masking the responding volley of the _Matthias_.

Anne caught James as he staggered in the wake of the blast, righting his footing. James nodded his appreciation with a "Thanks," but it was drowned by a thunder crack. They returned to holding the edge of the rail, waiting and watching.

Jack quickly looked up to Ludo who crouched behind a cannon, loading the next round.

"DUTCHIE! What's the damage?" Jack yelled pointing to him to lean over the rail on the side. Ludo nodded dutifully and ran to the edge as a round of gunfire blasted from the other ship.

" _Kak!"_ Ludo yelled, a left step taking him out of the path of a musket ball that kissed the top of his ear, carrying on his path to the rail, before leaning himself over the edge. His eyes darted over the side. "Mostly aesthetic, Captain!"

"And the hold?!" Jack called back.

Before Ludo, could answer, James watched as the _William_ suddenly veered closer to the sloop. "Ludo, watch out!"

There was a scraping of wood like nothing he had heard as the _William_ collided with the _Matthias_ diagonally, the ship swaying and sailers falling in the jarring motion. The ship was dragged to the right in a hard lean.

Everybody on the stern deck was thrown sideways, Jack thrown into the side of a barrel, while James and Anne were thrown to the floor awkwardly. James landed on his arm as he uncontrollably rolled, a stream of curses amidst a wave of agony emitted from his tongue.

As the ship steadied, Anne hauled herself onto her knees, the material there tearing as she scrambled over to James.

"Mary- Jim- are you-?" She helped him sit up, his face set in a rigid chagrin.

"I'm fine, Anne, you?" He growled through gritted teeth, adjusting his slung arm gently, trying not to vomit.

"Aye, and-" She turned to where Jack now lay motionless at an awkward angle by the barrel. " _Shit,_ John!"

She now gained her feet running awkwardly to his side, rolling him over. "John?... _John?!"_ She shook his shoulder, as the gunfire on both sides began, shouting and chaos abound.

James crawled over, pressing two fingers into Jack's neck, reaching for a pulse before yelling above the din. "He's fine, Anne, just out cold!"

"Thank God..." Anne mouthed, steadying herself.

"I don't think the lord's listening! Leave him for now!" James called as he looked above as boarding hooks sailed through the air from the William, catching in the rigging and the woodwork of the _Matthias_. "Move!" He pulled Anne to her feet, dragging her out of the way of a hook that landed squarely at the base of the wheel.

The ship swayed as the enemy crew began hauling, pulling the _Matthias_ closer.

"Ready yourself, lass!" James yelled pulling his gun from his side, watching as the enemy sailors began launching themselves at the side of the ship, some swinging in from ropes.

Anne pulled out her sword as a man landed awkwardly behind James, who remained unaware that he had eyes upon him. Anne growled something unintelligible, something in the old Irish tongue and flew past James, driving her cutlass into the man's gut before he could react, twisting the blade as he staggered backwards, blood seeping from his mouth as he groaned. She drew the blade back swiftly and as he fell to his knees she kicked him squarely in the face and he fell back unmoving.

James looked at Anne for a split second as she remained tense, blood dripping from the blade across her dress. _Hell and wonders._

"I suppose we're even for that," Anne said as she and James turned to main deck where men, an even amount of friend and foe began to fill the deck.

James cocked his pistol and lined the sight up with the back of the skull of an enemy sailor, her vision of him glowing red as she focused for a second before sending a solid few grams of mishapen lead through bone and brain matter.

Another who stood near the body as it fell, made for the portside steps, set on reaching Anne and James, covered in the blood of his shipmate.

The pair ran forward, Anne leading with cutlass drawn and she brought he blade against the man's own, the clang of metal ringing through her arm.

"A fookin' woman?! I'll rut you a new one tonight and then drink your blood, you bitch!"

Unphased and blinded by the sheer adrenaline flooding through her veins, she swung and was blocked again. This time the man swung for her and she darted out of the way, spinning on her toes as she whirled to the right of the barrel of James' gun as another shot rung out, the man's face exploding in a mess of bone shards and stringent flesh.

Anne and James continued to dispatch men in a similar fashion for a while, neither sure of the exact passage of time as it seemed to twist around them, a crack of thunder ringing and a sheet of rain launching down upon them. They fought their way to the bottom of the steps, reaching the vicinity of another of their crew as the skies emptied upon them, the occasional flash of lightning silhouetting the crew like a curious painting James had once seen in Blackbeard's possession.

James' eyes scanned around for a moment. Amidst all the men, he saw none who resembled Ludo. _Shit._ "David!" He put his hand on the shoulder of the man, who turned to him. "Where's Dutchie?!"

"He fell overboard between the ships when we collided, Jim-"

David gasped suddenly as the end of a sword appeared from his middle.

" _Shit, shit, shit!"_ James put his hand on his gun, quickly realizing he had not reloaded since the last shot, as the man behind David withdrew his sword with a slippery sound, knocking the body aside. James' only hand had barely reached his sword when the burly man swung forward. He saw the blade cut across his vision, waiting for the sting.

It didn't come.

He opened his eyes, not realizing he had closed them. Anne stood before him, parrying the blows but staggering backwards as she did. He was built like a brick shithouse and his blows were knocking Anne off balance. James now drew his cutlass, ramming it into the thigh of the man who screamed, his blade flying forward and drawing itself across Anne's arm, cutting through cloth and flesh.

Anne cried out and swayed backward as another of their own crew rushed in to defend from another enemy who moved in on where they stood.

"Anne! Are you alright?!" James yelled, his gut twisting. If anything happened... this would be _his_ fault. He had brought her here, convinced her to do this. All of this, all in the name of an idea, a flight of fancy, a-

"I'm fine, Jim! It's not deep!" She looked up at him, hair matted, rain dripping from her chin as blood seeped from her arm. She flexed it out, swinging the cutlass, wincing a little as it pulled on the flesh before her jaw set and she turned back to the fray with the sailor who had come to their aid.

James loaded another round and fired, taking out a further enemy.

"Anne, we're getting cut down by the guns! What's your orders?!" A sailor nearby yelled, pointing to the small decks that sat near the top of the masts of the _William._ Anne and James followed his line of sight, a flash of lightning illuminating the _William_ , the imprint on his eyes blazing with a man wielding a rifle on each of the crow nests.

Anne looked down for a moment. " _My_ orders?!"

"Shit...-" James blinked, aware of something else in his vision. He looked again. In the dark, barely visible, a man climbed the rigging from the opposite side of the _William_. He relaxed his eyes... a fleck of _gold_ appearing amidst the ropes.

 _Ludo._

He scrambled up the rigging, gaining on the top decks, unbeknownst to the men atop that the Flemish man would soon be upon them. James felt a mix of relief followed by a pang of anxiety as he watched the wiry frame clamber upwards, a cutlass held between his teeth.

" _Hunt goed, God zij met u,"_ James whispered to the wind, before tucking his flintlock into his arm, reloading.

High above the _William_ , Ludo clambered upwards, his muscles protesting with the added weight of his shirt and pants being soaked through with seawater. When the ships collided, he found himself spinning downwards and into the drink, drawn under the waves and under the _William_. He'd broken the surface on the far side of the enemy ship, a little way out, lucky to be alive and capable of swimming back to the vessels.

Now, he blinked sweat from his eyes, grunting around the cutlass in his mouth. _Like the dark wasn't enough to contend with for his sight..._ he leant backwards, allowing the rain to wash over his face, relieving the salt-sting in his eyes before continuing the climb.

Seconds later, his hands gripped the edge of the crows nest and he hauled himself to eye level, the fray continuing below, shouts and curses echoing between cracks of thunder. Neither rifleman was aware he was up there with him, the rest of their shipmates swamped the _Matthias_ leaving no-one but them aboard the _William_.

With a heave, he swung himself on to the deck, relieved to find some solid purchase and taking the cutlass from his mouth as he got himself to his feet, his jaw aching with the effort of keeping the blade there for the climb. Realizing he had no time to spare, he moved around the mast in the middle of the deck cautiously.

With his sword in one hand, he grabbed the first man from behind, hooking the man's neck into the crook of his elbow and pulling him backwards, silently choking him.

" _Vergeef me, landgenoot,"_ Ludo whispered, feeling a pang of guilt as the gasping Dutch sailor went limp in his arms. Ludo set him down, gently, the weight of what he had just done settling on his shoulders.

The rifle fell to the wood beside him, and Ludo picked it up lining up the sight with the other poor bastard.

A swift and true shot hit the man in the side of the neck and he staggered to the right and over the edge of the crow's nest, his body tumbling to the deck below. A horrific thump was heard above the din and Ludo avoided looking where he had landed.

Now, he knelt on one knee, steadying the rifle and reaching for the first man's ammo.

Down on the _Matthias_ , Anne and James found themselves fighting back to back as they faced an enemy each. The rain continued to pour on them as they found themselves tiring. More of their own crew fell around them.

Anne blocked a swing from a gawky sailor, and James felt Anne's muscles move against his spine and instinctively, he spun and shot the man in the chest, dispatching him. James' back was now open to attack from the other man and Anne in turn spun, so they were once again back to back, blocking a lunge from a haggard sailor, twisting her arm around his and knocking the sword from it.

The haggard sailor looked stunned for a moment and Anne took the opportunity, stabbing him through the heart.

Out of the corner of his eye, James saw a tall man in a long blue regal coat enter the foray, and turned to find the Captain of the _William_ with a long rapier. James had drawn his blade and as the Captain lunged forward, he blocked the shot but not enough to stop the long sword from dragging a small trail down the center of his chest, below where his arm remained tightly slung to his shoulder.

James cried out as the Captain took advantage of the damage and prepared to lunge again. Before he could reach James, a shot fired from high up and the Captain fell forward, first to his knees and then to his front, hit squarely in the back.

James staggered back a little, leaning against Anne, who leant back as their immediate foes fell before them.

Breathing heavily, James looked up through the rain and past the sail of the William to see a small cloud of smoke rising from the end of the rifle that Ludo wielded.

"You... _you devil, you_ ," James breathed thankfully, exhaustion racking his shoulders. He wildly saluted Ludo for a moment before looking to his left.

The now outnumbered crew of the _William_ were slowly becoming aware that their captain was dead, and swords were dropped, hands raised in surrender.

"It's _over_ , Jim," Anne said aloud as they slumped back against eachother for a moment, fearing that they might fall down otherwise. Lilith's daughters remained so for a few minutes, as the sky continued to fall around them, knowing that neither would fall while they were in eachother's company.

A short while later, the storm had eased, moving into the distance. The sky above lightened with the dawn as the storm clouds scattered and the moon shone, illuminating the edges of the clouds. The rain continued to fall lightly as the remaining crew of the _Matthias_ gathered around the bound crew of the _William_. Six men remained from the Dutch ship, all on their knees with their heads hung low.

Jack had been hauled to the cabin to recover, only able to mumble vaguely through a concussion that would likely be enough to keep him in bed for a day or two.

Ludo looked at the crew of the _William_ as he stood with Anne and James, his hands moving swiftly to bandage Anne's forearm. He nodded to where the prisoners were knelt and turned his head to James as he finished tying the bandage. "As the Captain is indisposed... What would you have us do with these men, Quartermaster?"

Anne nodded her thanks and now also looked expectantly at James. He hadn't officially be named quartermaster, but the crew seemed to respect him as a sailor, knowing him from word of mouth. It surprised him nonetheless when no-one moved to disagree with Ludo. Instead, Jack's crew looked to him as he looked upon the twenty or so faces illuminated in the moonlight, arms folded as they all waited.

"As is our way, they join us..." James took a stride towards the prisoners, drawing his cutlass to hang it loosely in one hand. "Or die. What say you?"

Immediately, five of the men agreed to join. Feeling relieved of the arduous task of dispatching perfectly good sailors, James turned to the last man, who remained silent as he knelt, graying hair hanging over his face, his eyes locked on James.

" _Fuck you."_

It was barely a whisper, but it resulted in a firm kick in the side from one of the crew. The man cried out and fell forward a little, swearing as he did, before looking up suddenly at James.

"I'd rather _die_ than sail under a whore of a quartermaster." He spat at James' boots.

For a moment, James believed him to be talking of Anne, and so strode forward and grabbed the man by the throat with his good arm, bringing him up to eye level. "Watch your tongue, _scurve_. You're in no fucking position to-"

"No, you see... _You're_ the whore," He whispered around the pressure on his windpipe, eyes going to James' chest and back up to his face, before rasping louder ensuring everyone could hear.

" _Captain Kidd's a woman, you blind fucks!"_

The crew recoiled.

Time stalled.

James could hear his own heartbeat in his ears as he slowly looked down to his chest, dropping the man and stepping backwards. Lifting his slung left arm forward as much as he could, he looked down through the gap to his chest and saw what the prisoner saw.

Below his left arm, his shirt and wraps had been cut open a way, the materials parting enough to bare a little flesh in the center of his chest, dried blood marked the edges of the wound. When the Captain of the _William_ cut him it had now unwittingly revealed what he thought he'd never let known to anyone but those closest to him.

A murmur began amongst the crew, people shuffled as their eyes now looked upon the appearance of the soft flesh of a breast between the Quartermaster's shirt tatters. He felt Anne's hand touch the back of his arm, and sensed her tense for her sword. The two of them would be able to do nothing should this turn ugly; the two of them versus twenty five crew were most unfavourable odds.

James anxiously scanned their faces as they looked at him, judging, trying to make sense of what they saw before them.

"Jim..." Anne whispered, to her right as the tension in the air threatened to drown them both, the silence unending.

A few moments passed and nothing happened. Only the steady creak of the ship and the lapping of waves against the sides could be heard.

"Nu komt de aap uit de mouw."

Jarred, James looked to the owner of the voice. _Ludo._

James expected to see an angry or confused expression but instead was met with surprisingly gentle eyes, perhaps bemused.

Most of the men only spoke English and their eyes turned to Ludo. James felt a brief moment of relief as he wasn't the center of their highly unwanted attention for a moment.

"It means, now the monkey's out of the sleeve. Like, cat out of the bag," He mumbled for a moment, before looking to James with eyes asking him to trust him. James nodded subtly, as Ludo straightened and walked into the center of the gathering.

"The bastard son of William Kidd, one of the finest pirates of our time _and_ a shipmate of Blackbeard, no less, is a _woman_." Ludo stated broadly, in a jestful tone at first, gesturing a hand to James. "He has taken ships far greater than we can imagine, achieved what we could only lust for in our wildest dreams and killed many men to get there."

Ludo began to walk in a circle as he looked to each of the men in turn, holding their eyes as he spoke.

"We are _all_ self-made men, albeit James more literally... Lads... We all fight against crown and throne for our own republic and if we follow the same _fucking_ rules as His _fucking_ Majesty, what's the point in any of what we do in our fight for our own governance?!"

Silence.

The prisoner laughed where he knelt and spat on the floor in front of Ludo. "You're about as dandy and queer as all of this, you fucking _klootzak."_

The crew murmured amongst themselves, glancing sideways at eachother and then back to James who now felt as though gravity was pulling him inside out. _Shit, shit, shit._

The bound man spoke again, launching his head back as he looked around the crew. "Your bitch likes to play man. The only way she'd survive in this world is _fucking witchcraft -_ and even a witch wouldn't have the balls to kill me. _"_ He laughed darkly, gaging the reaction. It fell short, the crew remaining silent as he looked around.

James' eyes honed in on the red cross sewn to his cumberbund. Subtle, but enough of a marker to a keen observer, Templar or Assassin. James only wished he had killed him in the earlier battle.

Nothing happened for a few more awkward and drawn out moments, when suddenly, James cracked the man around the jaw with a right hook. Something crunched and the prisoner screamed, leaning forward to spit the end of his tongue out that had caught between his teeth.

He drooled blood on the deck, whimpering, red staining the front of his shirt.

James stood tall, looking down at the pitiful man. This was going to go _his_ way.

"The man with the pissy snake tattoo on the back of his neck?" He started as a whisper, addressing the man at first before continuning loud enough for everybody onboard. " _I_ _ended him_ with a shot to split his spine where he stood! _A woman_ ended him. The one with the right ugly fucking beard? _Anne_ ended him. _A woman ended him._ A pair of women, with three good arms between them ended a chunk of _your pissing crew_. _"_

Anne looked up nervously. _Where the fuck was James going with this?_

The prisoner, spat blood, trying to talk but found himself incoherent with a newly broken jaw and a ruined tongue. He shook with rage as James knelt down suddenly, grabbing him by the jaw and pulling his face up. He shrieked through the pain and trembled while James held him there.

" _A woman_ ended them." James hissed in his face, before whispering his name. " _It's over, Joris."_

With a brutal shove, James threw him to the side by the jaw as the prisoner screamed, curling into a fetal position as best he could with hands tied, blood pooling on the deck by his stood up turning away from the man for a moment.

" _A woman_ ended _you_."

The crew jumped as James spun and shot him in the temple, Joris' body turning limp on the deck. For a moment, the men proceeded to whisper and mutter nervously, before James continued, turning to them.

"Lads, James Kidd died tonight along with the crew of the _William_." James spoke, smirking a little as he felt his voice matching Edward's bloody speech patterns. "My name... _was_ Captain Kidd... James Kidd. I've always used it as I've sailed."

The crew looked confused. James met Anne's eyes now, beckoning her to listen as he spoke. If Anne was going to become as _he_ was... he would have to become like her.

James reached upward with his hand, pulling his bandana from his head, the tie from his hair and allowing it to fall down, the rain sticking it to the sides of his face. With the same hand, he pulled his shirt aside, baring a little more flesh to the sailors. "My name is Mary Read... and if any of you take any bloody issue with that... well, you can fuck right off, lads!"

The crew, to Mary's surprise, cheered. As they whooped their approval, Mary stood stunned and she felt Anne beside her, in as much awe as she at the bizarreness of the situation. They both knew that so long the men were wealthy in coin and booze, anything went.

 _If you could see this, Thatch..._ Mary ruminated, wondering what the wise and batshit crazy man would say now. They'd often converse deeply on a thousand subjects - few knew that Thatch had been a wildy intelligent and well-versed fellow, only knowing him as a devil of the sea. She remembered choosing to be honest with when she joined his crew, her instinct leading her to see the gold about him as he walked and talked.

She had motioned to Thatch one night, long long ago, that James was not a he, in between loading supplies to the ship. He had raised an eyebrow before pointing to the barrel in her arms. "That's all very well, but are you going to load that barrel on to the ship?"

"Aye, Captain!" She had been so keen to impress him.

"Good lad," He had winked at her before pulling himself to her ear to impart his message and to keep the conversation hushed. "Between this world and the one below... or the one above, should you find yourself so lucky... you'll not be measured by your tits, but by the thumper behind them."

A young Scottish sailor piped up, interrupting Mary's stream of memory. "It's always been superstitious, having a woman on the crew. Yet... none have e'er done it. We won today, and it has nay served us ill!"

The crew cheered again, tired but elated.

"Your orders, Quartermasters Read and Bonny?" Ludo stood with his arms folded as the cheers died down, wearing a warm smile. "The Matthias is too damaged from the fight to be of use and beyond what we can afford to repair, nor can we spare the men to sail both _well."_

"Quartermaster?" Anne's eyes were wide and she processed this quickly, now addressing the crew. Mary watched from the side, seeing the spark ignite in her eyes. "We have taken what we need from the _Matthias_ \- we burn her, leave no trace!" She then cast a respectful hand to their fallen crewmates, who had been respectfully wrapped up with what material they could spare. "At dawn, we send our brothers to the world below. After that... onwards to Nassau to make ourselves wealthy!"

The crew cheered again and headed to move the cargo from the _Matthias_ to the _William_. Mary turned about and headed up the steps to the stern deck of the _William_ , Anne close behind. From a higher vantage point, she was a beautiful ship - a few hands longer than the Jackdaw and with twice the guns.

Neither of them moved for the wheel. Mary then coughed gently and gestured to her arm. "Anne, I can't handle her-"

"I'm going to steer this beast?" Anne's jaw hung slack for a moment, before she grinned, excited at the prospect. "Well, alright then!"

Mary waited. Anne shuffled awkwardly.

"Would you maybe... tell me how?"

"Of course."

"It's just, I don't want to break the ship!" Anne explained nervously.

"You won't," Mary laughed watching as Anne stood before the wheel, the sky lightening closer to dawn.

As she began explaining the art of steering a ship like the _William_ to Anne, she found herself glancing at the morning star as it burned a hole in the sky, the storm all but gone with the night. She didn't know too much about what came after with everything she'd learnt since joining the Assassins - it had all been hard to swallow at first.

A childhood spent going to church - though perhaps not as fervently as Anne's upbringing - followed by finding a place with the Assassins had brought in to question the Good Book. The verses about pearly gates and judgement and all of those things that seemed so silly now, like they were a drunk sailor's telling of a court hearing, one confused version of events that were so strange and above what even the Assassins - and Templars - could begin to comprehend.

Whatever it was that lay beyond - the world above, the below, the sea, the sky... she could not define it; but all she knew now was that somewhere, Thatch could see her... and he was proud.

Sorry for the delay and thank you for making it this far! There's more to come soon. They've got a shiny ship, but what now? ;o) I'll be writing the next part over the weekend as I have a short break from studying.


	5. Cabin Fever

**4\. Cabin Fever**

 _"Caelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt._

 _Those who hurry across the sea change the sky [upon them], not their souls or state of mind."_

The rain came in hard that morning after the sun rose and it remained like an unwelcome guest for a few days. During the night, it cooled the air, but left an uncomfortable stickiness below deck. Most of the crew had resigned to sleeping on the deck under makeshift shelters, playing cards and telling stories in the small hours when the heat meant sleeping felt like suffocating.

As the sun rose on a further day at sea, Mary sat alone in the corner opposite the stairs she had claimed on the deck of the _William_ , close to the cabin. Leant against the cold metal of a cannon for a little respite, she idled over a map drawn out against the length of her good arm, grateful for the natural light the morning sun brought - reading by the flicker of a candle by night brought her crashing headaches, as though her skull was being dashed against the rocks at shore like a young fellow she had sailed with long ago when he had drunkenly dived off a cliff. _Stupid lad, nice boy. What a waste._

She made mental notes as her eyes wandered over the paper, having looked in the cabin when they got aboard but found no ink nor quill and kicked herself for not thinking to bringing them from the _Matthias_ before they burnt it to a husk and committed it to the seafloor.

As the sunlight broke across the horizon, she glanced across to the captain's cabin. A rag hung across the open door granting Anne and Jack a modicum of privacy, not that it covered the faint sound of their rutting the previous night. Mary had at first tried to hum to herself, filling her ears with the vibration in her jaw before giving up and joining a game of cards further down the deck with Ludo and a few others.

Ludo had gestured to the empty stool beside him which she had taken gratefully. He leaned in and spoke so that only she could hear. "Jack's feeling better, I take it?" Mary nodded and they both smirked as they were dealt a hand.

Now, Mary watched as the rag swayed in the morning air. She had barely seen Anne since the night they took the _William_ and on a ship of it's size, it was a feat to not see someone. Her friend only emerged for water, food and rum to bring back to the cabin, disappearing for what seemed like a day at a time, looking more exhausted each time she emerged.

Mary wrestled with a nagging feeling in her gut. Either Jack was being as needy as a baby - which she admitted _was_ highly plausible - or Anne was avoiding her, for reasons she wasn't entirely certain of. She had taken Anne over the basics of ship-steering before they had passed the wheel to Ludo who offered his time so that they might sleep after the long night and after that... it had been quiet to a fashion of uncomfortable disquiet.

"Good morning, Mary," Ludo called hushedly from the wheel, drawing her eyes up above the cabin door. She nodded in return, moving the map to the hand in the sling and using the other arm to roll it up before tucking it under her coat in her corner. She hauled herself up using the cannon behind her and headed up the steps to join him.

"How's the arm?" He asked, gently adjusting the wheel as he nodded to her shoulder.

"Getting there," she replied, looking across the deck and out to sea, hazy greenery of the nearest land masses blurring on the edge of the horizon. "And you?"

"My arm's fine," He chuckled softly and Mary pulled a face.

"You know what I mean, you daft sod," she folded her arm across her. "I'll switch with you in a minute."

"Of course," He nodded. "I'm fine. Though now that we're out of British patrol waters, I feel we should find somewhere to dock soon - we're running low on water that won't turn a man to madness and the lads might split their pods if we do not find a place with a brothel."

The past few days had gone the same - Ludo and Mary taking shifts at the wheel, with conversation when they traded places. Idle talk of was and when, slipping seamlessly between Dutch and English. It was a comfortable routine, though they both were beginning to carry bags under their eyes from the exhaustion and lack of unbroken rest.

Mary pondered this and wholeheartedly agreed. "Aye, restless ain't the word," she watched the crew as they went about their routines, a certain air about them and the way they carried themselves told her that they too were knackered and in need of a trip ashore. "We're a day out from Cape Bonavista. Half decent brothel there."

He nodded, before letting go of the wheel for a moment. When he was content they were sailing smooth enough to leave it, he gestured to her arm. "Here, let me see."

This was another part of their routine in between handing over the stewardship of the wheel - he'd re-tie her sling and comb her hair, which was becoming knotted in the rain. She stepped forward to face him, allowing him to reach above her shoulder and untie the sling. Each time Ludo did so, Mary would study the contours of his face as he drew closer to hers, his eyes darting between the knot and her face, ensuring that he was not causing her any pain as he moved.

His face was gentle with high cheekbones and like many of his countrymen, he appeared fairer in face than the English. She'd learnt that the scar on his upper lip had been from when he had tripped when climbing a hill as a child as opposed to "anything brave", that his eyes were grey like his mother's and he was blonder until he reached adulthood, unlike the light brown ponytail he wore now.

As the material slackened, Mary instinctively used her other arm to keep it close to her body, wincing with the ache. This time, instead of re-tying the sling, Ludo gently pulled it away and hung it on the wheel.

Mary looked at him with a puzzled expression, wondering what he was expecting.

"Give me both hands," Ludo smiled gently, holding out both of his.

"Mate, I don't know if I can..." Mary hesitated, keeping her arms still, not willing to bring on a bout of pain.

"Do you trust me?"

"Aye," Mary's immediate reply elicited a nervous laugh from them both. "But I don't know if I can-"

"Work with me, Miss Read," He beamed coyly as she conceded. He brought both hands to Mary's arm as she cradled it protectively, guiding her good arm to her side before gently folding out her injured arm in front of her.

She groaned quietly as the blood rushed into her hand, and Ludo took both of Mary's hands in his own and hung them between the two of them.

"Alright, let's try..." Ludo murmured, judging her face for reactions as took a half step back, slowly bringing their hands up higher. He continued for a few seconds before Mary groaned again, inhaling deeply.

"Sorry. We pause here and-" He apologised quickly, before his brow furrowed with a bemused look. "How'd you know the brothel in Cape Bonavista is decent?"

Mary tilted her head with a wry smile, a wash of experiences painting scenery across her mind. "A woman's got needs, Ludo. Other women are far more familiar with them than men."

Ludo's jaw slackened and his eyebrows jumped to twice their usual height and Mary couldn't help but laugh.

"Christ Ludo, d'you really think I'd go for years at a time without making stitches here and there? My sheath'll rust... or something, like."

" _Moeder van God..._ I... unh..."

"Cat got your tongue?" The corners of Mary's mouth tweaked in a smile through the grimace.

"I... if it works, then..." Ludo gave his head a shake, eyes still wide as he looked to their hands. Somewhen in those moments, their arms were now fully stretched so that both of Mary's shoulders were at a ninety degree angle, straight out in front of her. His smile widened further. "It works."

"It bloody aches too." Mary gazed intensely at Ludo, sweat running over the corner of her brow. "Can I put it back now?"

"Of course," He gently walked towards her, lowering their arms between them before releasing their hands.

Mary automatically wrapped her good arm across the other, inhaling deeply for a few moments. The ache was lessening each day but so was the natural tautness in her upper arm. She frowned, realizing she had a lot of climbing the rigging to do to fix it once it had healed.

Ludo stepped forward, taking the sling from the wheel and re-tying it behind Mary's neck. She nodded her thanks and she stepped up to the wheel, taking it in her good arm and steadying it as it creaked slightly, looking toward the sky ahead for any changes in weather.

Ludo slouched, rubbing his eyes with both hands for a moment before he perched against the rail to the side of the wheel, facing the back of the ship. He studied Mary's face for a few quiet moments before he spoke. The sun was at her back as they headed west and he found her curiously beautiful, even in her tired state. Her shirt was greying and her hair was a little frayed with the humidity, yet despite the exhaustion she held herself with all the confidence of a captain.

"You're worried about Anne." He spoke quietly with a statement, not a question as he folded his arms, aware that Jack and Anne were somewhere below them.

Mary took her eyes from the horizon and held his gaze for a moment, replying quietly in kind. "Aye."

"She has not come up here and I have not seen you speak with her since..." Ludo paused, remembering watching the two of them at the wheel, musing on the strange day that he had seen two women at the helm of a ship. "Since we took the William. You are good friends usually?"

"We are," Mary's eyes flickered, her hand tilting the wheel a little. "I don't understand, but... I hope that she's alright." She paused with an anxious expression before her mouth set in determination. "I'll go and speak with her today. I need get to a place called Tulum soon, not far from Bonavista."

"Tulum?" Ludo raised an eyebrow.

"Aye, I have a lot to discuss with someone there."

"You're not going to tell me who or why, are you?" Ludo asked, sensing a slight shut-out as he moved from the rail.

"Truly, Ludo, it's better that you don't know." She sighed, a sympathetic smile playing on her face.

"I understand," He replied, stretching as he yawned and moved to the steps. "I should get some rest. I will see you in a few hours."

" _Goede nacht,_ " Mary nodded to him as he jogged lightly down the steps. Before he reached the bottom, he turned to her.

"... is it a better brothel at Tulum?"

She chuckled and winked at him. "The best."

* * *

The low sun reflected off the sea ahead of the _William_ in the west that evening as Mary looked out to sea. Alongside them, the island that Cape Bonavista rested on teemed with the distant sound of night creatures waking up, and beyond them a low hum of civilization could be heard, breaking through the night.

They were a short distance from the small port and most of the crew were now awake and hovering on the deck, idling with anticipation of reaching the shore in pursuit of booze and women to bed.

Mary wiped her brow, turning the ship slightly to make for the headland. Ludo stood nearby, crunching on an apple he had speared on his dagger. They had found a few barrels of fruits on the _William_ from the Old World which none of them had tasted for a long time and red apples were amongst them. The apples seemed to keep the longest and much to their chagrin, a barrel containing strawberries with the county of Kent marked upon them had long since spoiled in the heat.

As Mary leaned on the wheel, a flash of colour caught her eye on the deck below. Anne stepped out from the cabin, placing an empty bottle down near a barrel. Mary's immediate reaction was to call out, but she chose against it, electing to stand and watch for the moment. Anne's posture screamed tired and it was though she were a stringed puppet in places, disjointed and only held up by weak wires.

As though Anne felt her eyes upon her, she turned around and looked up to where Mary stood, shielding her eyes from the sun. Mary gave her a nod and Anne looked at her feet for a moment, before heading for the steps.

As Mary tilted the wheel a little, Anne arrived at her side. Neither said a thing for an awkward few seconds, before Mary looked to her. Anne looked exhausted as though she hadn't slept, her hair was dishevelled, as was her dress.

"Jaysus, Anne..." Mary breathed, her face softening from the hard look she had been giving the horizon as though daring the sky and sea to stop her from reaching the shore. She looked Anne up and down, an unreadable expression painted on her friend's features. "Where've you been?"

"Looking after Jack," Anne whispered, still looking out to sea.

"Yeah, I heard-" Mary started and held her tongue, screwing up her face. "I'm sorry-"

"It's alright... he's feeling a bit better. How far away from port are we?" Anne's voice was still distant as her hands hung limply by her side, much like her hair.

"Less than an hour," Mary said softly, before glancing to Ludo who haphazardly put his apple core and dagger on top of the nearest barrel, taking the wheel on cue. She mouthed a quick thankyou and took Anne by the hand, leading her to the back of the ship.

"Hey, lass..." Mary began, as they stood together. Anne found it hard to meet her eyes, letting them look past Mary, over her shoulder.

"Jim-" Anne began, swallowing as her voice croaked. "Mary-"

"Easy," Mary put her hand on Anne's shoulder for reassurance and Anne jolted at the touch. Mary frowned for a moment, looking at the bags under Anne's eyes. "What ails you?"

"What I saw was... it was _brutal_ ," Anne half-whispered, swaying a little. Mary guided her to a crate behind her, sitting her down as she crouched in front of her.

"It's to be expected in a fight at sea, but you held your own, I'm proud of-"

"No, Mary..." Anne interjected suddenly. "You executed that man... I..."

"I..." Understanding dawned on Mary and she paused as she took one of Anne's hands in her own, noting that it was cold and clammy. "I did."

"It was frightening, like you weren't _you_ ," Anne now looked into Mary's eyes, her eyes bloodshot, terrified.

"You weren't you either," Mary replied gently, giving Anne's hands a gentle squeeze.

"Mary... I _killed._ "

Mary leant back on her haunches for a minute, rolling her tongue around her teeth as she tried to think of the right thing to say. "You did. And you shouldn't feel shame in that."

"They probably had families - children, waiting on them to come home..." Anne was becoming more visibly upset as she continued. "Oh, God... I killed them, Mary."

"You heard their threats - they would have taken your life, _or worse_ ,Anne," Mary breathed and she gently appealed to Anne's memory of the men who had threatened her with the promise of a living hell if they hadn't been cut down. "Do you think those children need fathers who would do that to a woman? You saved my life. And you lived. I was waiting on you to come home to Jack and me too."

"I..." Anne mulled this over before beginning listlessly. "Even lying with Jack... trying to forget... I keep seeing their faces and... the blood and... the man you killed..." Her voice broke. " _My head is full of fucking and fighting and I can't sleep, Mary_."

"I know, _I know..."_ Mary soothed leaning in, resting a hand on Anne's cheek and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Anne leaned into it with wet eyes, a ghostly pallor and clammy skin. "Jooris - the man I... executed, I can explain... but not here and not now," Mary said gently. "He wasn't a good man at all, Anne, trust me. The world is better off without him walking on it."

At that moment, there was an eruption of cheers from the crew as the docks came into view. It was too loud for either of them to speak, so they sat in silence for a moment, Anne placing her own hand on top of Mary's where it rested against her face.

Anne nodded slowly, placing trust in Mary's words as they faced eachother. "Where are we docking?"

"Cape Bonavista. We should get ready to leave the ship. The inn there has baths and good food," Mary explained, standing up and looking at the crew as the shore grew closer, huts in sight before looking to Anne, who's pallor and burning skin had Mary concerned.

"I'm tired of mangos and apples," Anne mumbled with a small smile as she rose to stand next to her.

Mary gave her hand a small squeeze. "Me too, lass."

* * *

Later that night, the moon hung low, creating the illusion of a ghostly road to the horizon on the still sea. The crew had dispersed about the town, some making their way directly to the brothel and some straight to the bar, depending on their priorities.

Mary and Anne sat at a quieter table across the way from Jack, where he spun a story of Anne's skill with a sword, in between marveling at the home comforts of the food available.

"This potato?" He held it in his palm for all to see, the light from a nearby torch flickering over his face, illuminating the raised bump on his forehead. "Anne could hit this with a dagger at fifty paces, and that lads, is why she is my woman!"

The jeers carried over and the two women shared a look as they ate in silence. Anne had claimed to not be all that hungry, but Mary had insisted, noting how pale she currently looked.

"He'll be claiming you're William Tell next," Mary spoke around a mouthful of stew, the spices making her eyes water a little.

Anne chased her spoon around her bowl idly. She hadn't eaten much, but had perked up a bit for it, along with the fresh water. "Or a hundred paces. If they want to line up, each with a potato atop their head, I'll give it a go, but Jack might not have anyone to man his ship by the end of it."

Mary smirked, gesturing to Jack with her fork. "That'd be a sight to see. I'm surprised he hasn't offered to prove it to them."

"All this talk," Anne chuckled. "And he still manages to make it about him. Everyone's forgotten he was out like a light for the whole bleeding thing!"

"I don't think they've forgotten," Mary looked across to the men who surrounded Jack as he continued on. "They got a good deal regardless, lined their pockets and find themselves with fine food and the coin for a half-decent whore."

"Aye, golden." Anne muttered sarcastically, noting a handful of ladies who had descended upon the group, one hanging from Jack's shoulder, her fingers walking up his chest.

Mary screwed her face up quizzically. "Golden?"

"Don't get me wrong, he's not unfaithful, but look at her..." Anne nodded to the dark haired woman who draped herself about Jack amorously. Mary watched as Anne's eyes darted over them, the way she watched intrigued Mary.

"Anne, I'd not worry," Mary said simply, raising her bottle. "You've a finer rack, fairer face and yer not ridden with fire in the nethers."

Anne turned back to Mary, pulling a face before they both laughed. "I'll drink to that."

Their bottles clinked lightly in the air, and as they did, Mary noted Anne's sleeve slip, revealing the bandage around her forearm from the fight. It was yellowed with the days since it had been applied and dry with blood.

Mary frowned as she lowered her bottle and nodded to Anne's arm.

"Can I have a look at that?"

"What? Oh-" Anne nodded, slowly placing her forearm on the table in front of her. "I keep meaning to change it but I've been so busy with Jack-"

Mary worked her one good hand around the bandage, loosening it as gently as possible. Anne winced as Mary's face fell, her eyes looking over the angry open wound. Gently, Mary felt the temperature of the flesh around it, brow furrowing as she noticed it was burning.

"Oh, Anne..." Mary breathed. "It's badly infected."

"I did wonder." Anne said mootly. "I thought it might be alright if I left it a while, sometimes they heal if you leave them..."

"You _know_ that's rarely true," Mary sighed with a tone of sadness as she stood up, moving around to Anne's side of the table. She gently placed a hand to Anne's clammy forehead, who sighed in response to the coolness of Mary's palm. She rested against the it for a moment, basking in the light relief it brought and gazing exhaustedly into Mary's eyes.

They remained so for a moment, the candle light dancing across Anne's face.

"I have a fever, don't I?" She asked simply.

"Aye, a bad one." Mary's face was awash with concern. "Wait here."

Anne leant on her own hands as Mary left her for the bar, finding less relief in her own overly warm hands than Mary's. She sighed. The nausea wasn't all that bad, the wound would heal by itself wouldn't it?

Mary returned moments later with a bottle and a handful of rags tucked in the nook of her injured arm. Sitting astride the stool beside Anne she placed them down before bringing Anne's right arm into her lap.

Mary guided her left arm from the sling, groaning a bit before using her left hand to hold the rag and her right hand to tip rum on to it. Her left hand shook with weakness as she did so, but she set her jaw decisively, finding the optimisim in the fact that it now had at least a little use as opposed to none at all.

"This'll sting a bit, sorry..." Mary held Anne's eyes for a moment as she brought the alcohol soaked rag to the wound. Anne winced, hissing through her teeth as Mary worked to clean it, removing the dried blood as carefully as possible.

Mary worked silently for a while, murmuring quiet apologies whenever Anne made the pain known.

"You should come with me tomorrow." Mary broke the silence as she wound a clean bandage around Anne's forearm, her brow still furrowed, still not happy with Anne's colouring and the state of the wound.

"Where to?"

"A small place across the water. I have some business to discuss and I know a doctor of sorts there. It's not far, an hour or two maybe," Mary explained as she finished tying the bandage around Anne's arm.

"A doctor?" Anne pulled her forearm to her, rubbing her hand against the bandage gingerly.

"Aye, this might be a bit beyond what anyone here can help with," Mary ran a hand through her own hair, glancing about the settlement anxiously, worry now firmly set on her face.

"Are you sure?... It's clean now, I wouldn't want to cause an unnecessary fuss-" Anne became slightly fraught.

"Look, Anne... I..." Mary suddenly took her hand. "I've seen men lose limbs with lesser injuries."

Anne somehow turned a further shade paler than she already was, a quiet " _Oh"_ escaping her mouth. Mary bit her lip as she watched her process the information. She didn't have the heart to tell her that the last few men she'd seen with infections so ingrained had bid an involuntary farewell to the world... swiftly.

* * *

 **A quieter chapter of sorts. Onwards to Tulum! I promise I'll try and get the next chapter up sooner. :)**


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